


Toxic

by whatacunningboy



Category: Blood and Chocolate (2007), Charlie Countryman (2013), Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Aiden - Freeform, Aiden/Nigel, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst with a Happy Ending, Art, Bisexual Character, Bisexual Male Character, Bisexuality, Blow Jobs, Bottom Aiden, Canon-Typical Violence, Crossover, Crossover Pairings, Dirty Talk, Gay Sex, Happy Ending, M/M, Muse Nigel, Muses, Nigel - Freeform, Nigel/Aiden - Freeform, Not Beta Read, Not Suitable/Safe For Work, Sub Nigel, Top Nigel, Violence, hannigram AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-09
Updated: 2015-08-09
Packaged: 2018-04-13 19:04:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4533642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whatacunningboy/pseuds/whatacunningboy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Aiden found a muse in Bucharest.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Toxic

**Author's Note:**

> Not Beta Read.
> 
> I usually write Adam and Nigel together,  
> but I just rewatched Blood and Chocolate  
> and I felt like I needed to write something.
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

Aiden sat in the café every afternoon, right when the sunsets, because the light that was casted upon the stones of the buildings would create perfect shadow on the concrete ground of Bucharest. The city was such an inspiration for the young graphic novelist. It was rich in its history and rich in its architecture. He would sketch out the buildings of the city as a warm up at the café, until it was night time. Aiden could have chosen any café in the city, but he chose that particular café.

There was a man who would come out of the top of the building at the end of the café street. Although Aiden never spoke with the man, he found inspiration in him. The jaggedly sculpted muscles, the stance he took as he leaned against the balcony fence with a cigarette in his mouth and the look in his eyes. There was only one time that Aiden got to see that look. He packed up his belongings and as he walked underneath the building--he saw him. Their eyes met for a moment, and Aiden could see the emotions stirring in the man.

It was beautiful. That same night Aiden worked on his graphic novel and the loup-garou he worked on reflected those eyes. Aiden would go back to the café, with hopes to see the man come out for a smoke. He wanted to see those eyes again.

It had been three weeks since Aiden had seen his muse. He was worried, because he did not want to lose the man with no name so easily. He worked on his sketches of the building, the shadows a bit darker this time. The bottoms of his hands were smeared with graphite, and his eyes a bit red from a lack of sleep. Darkness started to creep into the city, and the lights of buildings started to shine brighter. Aiden closed his sketchbook and started to put his supplies away. He hoped to see the man the next day, because he needed to sketch him again.

He left an unfinished cappuccino on the table. Aiden walked underneath the same building as he turned the corner, he bumped into someone. He quickly apologized with a small smile to his face. However, when Aiden looked up, his smile slowly vanished. His muse, the inspiration that sparked up such creativity stood right before him.

Aiden had underestimated the beauty in the man's face. He bore a tattoo on his neck of a woman, which he made a note of because he would have to add into his sketches. The man had cheekbones high and prominent, chin out and structure of his face built closely to a god. Aiden felt his cheeks warm up as he stuttered out an apology once more. The man smirked slightly and looked at Aiden with a curious eye.

"Have we met before?" The man asked.

"N-no... well perhaps, I come every night to the café for a cappuccino." Aiden placed his sketch book underneath his armpit and wiped his hand on his jeans, "My name is Aiden Gillan."

"Nigel." The man shook his hand, "I've seen you out in the café, always fucking drawing... are you an artist?"

"More like a graphic novelist." Aiden corrected. He pulled out a book from his satchel, "I'm a published author, but they're not great material." Nigel flipped through a couple pages.

"You're very good." Nigel handed it back to him, "So, you draw and shit?" Aiden nodded, "Then, why the fuck do you keep on looking up at my apartment every time you're here?" Aiden felt his cheeks flush slightly. Thankfully the lighting on the street was not great.

"You're aesthetically pleasing to the eye, so you took you as inspiration for my art." Aiden admitted, "If you would like me to stop, I will."

"It's not like you're threatening me, Aiden." The way his name rolled off of his tongue made Aiden chuckle.

"Well, if you'd like to see my work, I'm staying at this place," Aiden wrote down his address on a piece of paper from his sketchbook, "You could model for me too. It would be great to have you close for references." He handed the page to Nigel. At first he was hesitant, but he took it, "Have a goodnight."

Aiden left Nigel without hearing a response to his offer. Aiden hoped that the man would actually come to his apartment. Nigel was a great specimen for a model, but Aiden also would not mind getting into bed with that man.

That same night, Aiden drew the man from memory as he had done for the past weeks. However, his drawings were detailed. Every drag of the pencil was new to his eyes, because he had actually seen the man closer than before. When he was satisfied with his work, he crawled into bed and fell into a deep sleep.

The next couple of nights, Aiden did not go to the café at the usual time. He was busy trying to finish up the last pages of the next volume of the novel. His agent only calls him for that reason, so whenever Aiden would get reports at the front desk about a call, Aiden knew. He rubbed his eyes, trying to get the exhaustion out of him. He passed by the window and glanced out of it quickly.

It was hard to miss. Many other people would have dismissed the image in front of them, but years of hiding and running from the U.S. government made Aiden’s senses a bit more hyperactive. Nigel stood next to a car, looking up at Aiden’s window. It was Aiden’s turn to be admired. Aiden dropped the pages in his hand and ran out of his room. His feet worked faster than what his mind was processing the moment.

He reached the street. Nigel met eyes with Aiden—he smiled smugly. Aiden walked across the street to meet him. Nigel moved to the hood of the car, and leaned against it. Aiden’s eyes danced around Nigel’s body, the hand placements in his pocket and the way his legs crossed. Aiden wished he could bring out his sketch book and draw Nigel at that moment.

“You live in a shitty place for an American, you know?” Nigel pulled a cigarette and lit it.  
“I can only pay so much... nice places are expensive in Bucharest. What are you doing here?”

“I want to see your art... you said you were a fucking artist, so I wanted to see if it was fucking true.” Aiden smirked and shuffled his feet slightly.

“I wouldn’t lie to you.” Aiden started to walk towards the building, while Nigel followed, “Are you always this distrusting?”

“You learn after living here your whole life.” Nigel glanced inside of the building. He glared at the man at the reception because he knew him—a weasel.

“It’s a great city.” Aiden climbed the steps, “Very vivid in its life... very rich in culture.” “Very fucking dangerous.”

“That too.” Aiden shrugged as he opened the door to his room, “I’ll warn you though, I might not be all that good.” Nigel chuckled at him before entering the room.

It was a large room, with dishes in the sink and the bedding messy. Pages were scattered throughout the floor of the room and taped on the walls. There was a easel near the window with a canvass on it—it wasn’t fully finished but Nigel could see that Aiden was trying to paint a wolf. He chuckled and sucked the nicotine from his cigarette.

“These are the ones I have sketched of you.” Aiden pulled out all kinds of paper sizes and placed them on the table in the middle of the room, “All are out of memory, since you didn’t stay out on the balcony all day.” Nigel looked at each one.

“You weren’t lying.” Nigel chuckled, he glanced at him.

“I told you I wouldn’t lie.” Aiden smiled. He licked his lower lip, it was subtle and it could be interpreted as Aiden trying to moisten his chapped lips, but also be seen as something more.

“You a fag, Aiden?” Nigel chuckled.

“Are you?” There was a playful tone to his voice and Nigel loved to play sick games. He leaned into Aiden, but Aiden moved away before their lips could touch, “Since you’re here, I would like to get an actual sketch of you.” Nigel bit the inside of his cheek as he watched Aiden grab a pencil and a pages from the other table. He clipped the pages on a clipboard and sat on a chair.

“You asking me to model?”

“If you wouldn’t mind.” Aiden smiled, “Don’t worry, it’s nothing faggy.” Nigel chuckled and looked around the room.

“What do you want me to do?”

“You can sit there,” Aiden pointed at the chair.

Nigel sat on the chair that Aiden had pointed out. It was wooden and old, probably something that the hotel owned. Nigel wanted to figure out Aiden. He could easily ask, but that was taking half of the fun away from the entire situation. Aiden began drawing--his hands working first in large swishes across the page—he did not take his eyes off of Nigel for a minute during the beginning. Nigel stared at the wall to his left. His lips embraced the cigarette—Aiden wanted those lips on his. He had never desired another human like he did with Nigel for that moment.

“You never answered my question.” Nigel could not stand the silence all that long.  
“You never answered mine.”  
“I asked first, it’ rude if you don’t answer.” Nigel turned to Aiden with a curious look to his eye.

“I’m bisexual.” Aiden sighed, “You?”  
“Never stuck much to fucking labels.” Nigel shrugged. Aiden chuckled lightly. “So you’re just too lazy to research it?”  
“So what if I fucking am?” Nigel snapped.  
“I’m just saying.”

Aiden stayed quiet when he worked on the details of the piece he worked on. Nigel was also almost done with the cigarette in his mouth—and with nothing much to do in the actual room—he was going to start to get bored. However, Aiden finished right when Nigel put out the cigarette.

“There.” Aiden handed it to him.

Nigel took the large clipboard and examined the piece Aiden had finished. If Nigel was living in a world of art, Aiden would be the artist—his work represented Nigel in a vicious light and Nigel liked it. In fact, he admired the way Aiden saw him. He smirked at the page and got up from the chair.

“So you’re fuck both men and women?” Nigel asked.  
“Yeah, I find beauty in both.”  
“You find me fucking beautiful? What am I? A fucking woman?”

“Beauty is a word that describes you, in a way an artist would admire.” Aiden shrugged, “If you find it offensive to be somebody’s muse, then I will stop describing you as such.” Nigel grinned—Aiden was quick on his feet.

“Well, I had a fucking good time.” Nigel took the page, “I’ll be taking this, and see you by the café again.” “Oh, you’re counting on it?”

“Yes. Like yourself, I too can fucking admire something beautiful.” Aiden smiled as he watched Nigel leave his room.

Aiden had sought out Nigel in times that were not convenient. He was running from very dangerous men in Bucharest that could easily take out Aiden, but that did not stop the young novelist from trying to find him. After many days of searching, he had asked the landlord of the building for Nigel. The man let him know that Nigel was there, but not to be disturbed. Aiden could care less. His muse was hiding in his room, and Aiden needed the inspiration.

He had entered the room Nigel stayed in at the café. The walls painted in a blue, but the floor painted red with blood. Nigel lay on the bed with blood stained sheets and water at his side. Aiden pulled his satchel off and hurried to help Nigel. His skin prickled as he felt the touch of Aiden’s hands. There was a deep gash on Nigel’s side. It had been done with a very small knife, so Aiden quickly concluded that

Nigel had probably been close to being stabbed. Aiden had seen his fair share of stabbings as he hitchhiked across America. The boy worked to get bandages on Nigel to stop the bleeding. He should have taking Nigel to the hospital, but Aiden was no idiot. He knew Nigel was trouble, so he knew that going to the hospital was not a good idea.

Nigel was close to death that night. Aiden had saved him. It was enough; there was no need for the young novelist to stay in the room with the man all night. However, Aiden did stay. He drew to keep himself awake, he drank coffee he made from Nigel’s kitchen, and he smoked one cigarette, because he missed it. The man moaned in pain as he would turn on the bed, but Aiden would stop him, because he pressure on the wound would not let itself heal. When Aiden felt like he was going to fall asleep, he kept on drawing—the lines on the paper each time a bit messier than the next.

Morning came, but Nigel did not wake. Aiden left for a moment to get something from the café. He was not long. Aiden did not want to leave Nigel alone for that long. Nigel could wake up at any moment and need Aiden’s help. He went back to Nigel’s apartment and stayed there for the rest of day. He cleaned the blood on the floor, cleaned the sheets that were on Nigel, and not the sheets he laid on. He made some food from the scraps in Nigel’s fridge and pantry and he cleaned Nigel when the man had soiled himself.

Aiden figured out that the wound was probably not the only thing that happened to Nigel. He had no idea what other injury might have caused him to sleep for such a long time. Aiden knew that he could keep Nigel without medical assistance for only so long, and then he would have to take him to the hospital. Therefore, he hoped for Nigel’s recovery or at least for the man to wake up.

The young novelist had to leave to get some clothes for himself for the night or for the length of time that Nigel would be needing his assistance. He grabbed the keys out of his satchel and ran to his apartment. He packed some clothes in another backpack and took his sketchbook with him. The darkness started to drape over Bucharest, and although Aiden had ventured out in the city many times in the night—there was a chilly mood that hung over the city.

Aiden pushed the door to Nigel’s apartment and did not see him on the bed. He placed his backpack on the chair where his satchel hung. He glanced over at the bathroom and saw Nigel hanging over the toilet. He scrambled to him—he lifted him and draped his arm over his should. The man groaned out of pain at the jerk.

“You should have been patient until I came back.” Aiden slowly placed Nigel in bed.  
“I needed to-o piss.” Nigel hissed. He lay on his back, “What the fuck are you doing here, Aiden?”

“My muse never showed back up at my apartment and he no longer looked out the balcony for my art. I worried about him.” Aiden sat next to Nigel. The man closed his eyes and forced them open.

“I’m fucking hungry.” Nigel chuckled.

There was often humor in darkness, and the reason Nigel laughed was because his way of living was very morbid. Aiden got up to pour Nigel a plate of soup. It was the best he could do with what Nigel had in the fridge. Nigel struggled to push himself in a sitting position on the bed. His lolled on the wall behind him; he watched Aiden come to his side with the bowl in his hands.

“You did all this?” Nigel asked, his breathes labored. Aiden nodded as he blew on the potato on the spoon, “Why?”

“You’re my muse. Why else?” Nigel slurped up the food from the spoon and chewed slowly.

Blue steel eyes met cognac brown eyes. Aiden gave a shy smile as Nigel starred at him—his hands shook with the spoon in his hands. Aiden placed the bowl on the table, when he settled back on the bed—he moved slightly closer to Nigel. Two men passionate, but prideful—they did not want to be the first to give into the other’s seduction. Nigel leaned in slightly, as much as his injury would allow him too. Aiden did as well. Their lips lightly grazed. Both were rough because both men had endured lives of hardship.

Nigel was the first to give in. He pressed his lips on Aiden—eyes closed and hand moving up to Aiden’s cheek. Aiden took charge and swept his tongue on Nigel’s lips. Their bodies heated up with the friction between the two. Their thoughts started to flood out of their minds. Nigel tasted bitter, but Aiden tasted like a fresh morning. Aiden pulled away.

“I’m afraid we have to stop now.” Aiden whispered. He rested his forehead on Nigel’s; chocolate curls covered Nigel’s blonde hair, “You’re going to hurt yourself even more.”

“Fuck it.” Nigel joked, but knew that in his state he could only do so much. They laughed lightly, as Nigel took Aiden’s hand. The hands of an artist—blessed with talent touched tainted hands—Nigel felt like he was unworthy of Aiden’s adoration, “Stay here tonight, darling. It’s dangerous at night.” Aiden smiled and stripped out of his jacket. He took off his shoes and laid next to Nigel, until the man fell asleep.

Three months is what it took for Nigel to leave his apartment. Aiden basically moved to Nigel’s place, since he took care of him for about a month. He really did not mind because he could draw the man at whatever time of the day he wanted. Nigel had stayed indoors for that entire time. He did not tell Aiden why and Aiden did not question it. He would go out for food when he needed to, and brought back newspapers for Nigel to read.

Aiden was out at night by the café. He liked to go out at night to sketch out the night sky or the lamps that illuminated the ground in a manner that looked alive. He took a break from sketching and sipped out of the cappuccino that he had ordered. He gazed over at the balcony where Nigel used to stand. He hid a small smile with the cup of liquid—it was only three months ago that he sat at the café admiring his unknown muse—now he admired him closely.

“Aiden Gillan?”

Aiden turned back to see who had called him, but someone else yanked the collar of his shirt. This knocked the table over and the chair. His hand let go of the cup with his drink and it fell to the floor shattering into pieces. Aiden tried to fight back, but the two men had the upper hand and gave a quick jab at him. Aiden blacked out.

Nigel got the call. They had Aiden. He knew he fucked up when he took out everyone at that poker game. He cursed. He punched the wall, kicked trash around him, and threatened whatever god was up there. He knew he fucked up. Nigel called Darko—he explained that they had a valuable asset of Nigel’s—his way of covering up his relationship even to Darko. They made plans to recover Aiden.

Aiden was bleeding. He was bruised. He felt like he could sleep for days and maybe wake up to Nigel’s comments about his hair and eyes. Another blow was delivered to his abdomen before they finally let him fall on the piss stained floor. Aiden tried to get up, but it resulted in looking like he was squirming about.

“Now, are you ready to tell me...?”  
“I told you, I don’t know shit.” Aiden breathed.

“You’re Nigel’s fuck toy, aren’t you?” The man pulled Aiden’s hair to make him look up, “He must have told you something.”

“I don’t even know what Nigel does!” Aiden yelled, grabbing at his hair. The man pulled him up so Aiden could stand. He let go only to have one of the other men kick his popliteal fossa; Aiden fell back on the floor.

“Take him to the other room. Nigel should be here soon.” The man laughed, “Unless, he’s just a fuck toy.”

They dragged Aiden across the floor to the next room. The men tied Aiden to the chair with a blindfold to his eyes. They spoke in Romanian—Aiden felt one of them touch his lips with his thumb. Then hit him once more. They laughed and left the room. The memories of Aiden’s father began to roll back into his mind. The pain of the bruises was not as painful as the pain he felt when he recalled the torture he suffered with his father.

About two hours past, when Aiden heard gunshots and footsteps outside of the room. He writhed in the chair. He knew he was not going to be able to break free, so he began to move away from wherever the noise came from. He did not get very far, because he fell over. There were footsteps inside of the room. Aiden’s heart pounded in his chest. He closed his eyes, even though he had the blindfold on his eyes. He was pulled back up right. Aiden held his breath—the blindfold came off slowly. The man in front of him familiar—Aiden felt a relief fall over him when he felt Nigel’s hands on his face.

“I’m sorry, darling.” Nigel kissed his cheek. He untied Aiden and helped him up from the chair. Another man came in, “We have to go.”

Aiden nodded and followed Nigel out of the building. Every man that had tormented Aiden in the last four hours was dead. Aiden felt panic start to settle in, but he stayed quiet. The men around him had the means to kill him if they needed. Nigel opened the car door for Aiden. He got in and waited for Nigel.

“I’m sorry-...” Nigel reached for him, but Aiden pulled away. “You’re what a mercenary?”  
“Something like that.”  
“You failed to mention that.” Aiden snapped.

“I wanted to keep you safe, darling.” Nigel looked at Aiden.  
“Safe? Do I look safe?!” Aiden calmed himself before his volume rose even more.

“I never wanted them to fucking find you.” Nigel turned on the car, “And I would have never left you with them.”

“If you really cared about me, you would not have contacted me.”

Aiden crossed his arms and looked out of his window. He did not dare to look back at Nigel. Nigel stopped the car in front of Aiden’s old place. He had stayed there a couple of nights with Nigel, but they mostly spent it at Nigel’s place. Aiden opened the door and Nigel followed him to the building.

“This is as far as you go.”

Gunshots were heard before Nigel could respond. A man across the street started walking towards Nigel and Aiden with a gun in hand. Nigel pushed Aiden to the ground and hid behind the car. He pulled out his own gun and started to shoot back. Nigel kept Aiden in between himself and the car. He did not want the young novelist to get shot. Nigel killed the other man with a shot to the head. There were no more gunshots heard from the other man—Aiden took a deep breath. Nigel sat on the floor with his back to the car.

“Fucking...” He cursed as he held his side.

“Nigel! What’s wrong?!” Aiden moved closer. He saw him clutching the same side Nigel had injured when Aiden and he were closer.

“Don’t worry about it, darling.” Nigel shifted, “You wanted out? Well here’s your chance. Just leave me here and go back to your room.”

Aiden glanced up at the building, then at Nigel. His body acted quicker than he could process. Nigel had draped an arm across Aiden’s shoulders and they helped each other up the steps. Nigel had his answer. Aiden was his.

Aiden watched cars pass by the street. In front of him were pencils, papers, and various brushes. Nigel had spoiled him—he bought anything Aiden wanted and he helped him publish his books a lot easier than before. His fan base had grown and there were actually people waiting for his books. There were nights where Aiden was reminded what he traded for the affection Nigel had given him, but there were only a few nights.

“You look beautiful.” Nigel leaned against the doorway of their bedroom as he watched Aiden.

“I didn’t hear you.” Aiden smiled and stepped over towards Nigel. He kissed his lips and Nigel embraced Aidan.

“I wanted to surprise you.”

Aiden smirked and kissed Nigel once more. Nigel lifted Aiden off of the floor, the walk between the doorway and the bed was minimal, so Nigel knew he could be able to carry him. Aiden let himself fall on the mattress. Nigel grinded their crotches together, which emitted a hiss from Aiden’s lips; Nigel kissed Aiden’s neck as he heard the young novelist groan, “We don’t get this lu-luxury often...”

“We fucking don’t.” Nigel kissed Aiden’s lips once more. His hand groped Aiden’s growing erection, “This job is almost done... I’m taking a long vacation afterwards.”

The young novelist chuckled and tugged on Nigel’s shirt. The man pulled his shirt off and Aiden did the same with himself. The first thing that Aiden always notices is the scar on Nigel’s side. Their scar is what they had called it, because that’s how they stayed together. Aiden leaned in and kissed the scar. Nigel closed his eyes for a moment. They were both vulnerable at that moment—both barren and raw— emotions that they never expressed verbally were being expressed in small caresses.

Nigel kissed Aiden’s chest and trailed kisses down Aiden’s torso. He licked the young man’s navel, until he used his mouth to unzip his jeans. Aiden sighed into the relief he would soon feel. Nigel lifted his fingers to Aiden’s mouth. The young novelist sucked on them and moaned. Nigel pulled them away and pulled Aiden’s trousers away. No underwear underneath.

“Were you excited for me, darling?” Nigel smirked.

“Get on with it.” Aiden groaned.

“Not until you lick my fingers, don’t want to fuck you with them in dry.” Aiden sucked on his fingers once more. Nigel pulled them away and pushed Aiden’s legs back. Aiden held them in place and settled his head on the pillow under him, “Have you been touching yourself, darling?”

“I’ve missed you so much, Nigel.” Aiden moaned. He knew that Nigel was doing this on purpose, “Please, I want to be filled with your fingers... fill me up...”

Nigel pierced Aiden’s hole with the first finger. Aiden moaned loudly because Nigel also began to suck him off. Aiden impulsed his hips slightly. Nigel did not mind the young novelist doing action such as these--they gave him pleasure as well.

"Did you miss me?" Aiden moaned. Nigel pulled away and pressed his lips against Aiden's, a second finger being inserted.

"You know I did, baby." Nigel nipped at Aiden's nipples, "Missed that mouth of yours... it's always so fucking filthy."

"Then let me use my filthy mouth." Aiden pushed Nigel away from his chest.

Nigel laid on the bed as Aiden positioned himself to suck his lover. Nigel mewled when he felt Aiden's moist mouth on his hot member. He did miss him--he rolled his hips into Aiden's mouth. He felt the young novelist choke slightly, but Aiden did not stop. The scene unraveling in front of him was so lewd and deviant Nigel was closer to climax than Aiden. The young novelist crawled towards Nigel. He leaned in and kissed the man.

"Fuck me." Aiden whispered in between filthy kisses.

Nigel nodded and flipped Aiden from his belly to his side. This was not their favorite position, but it was intimate. Nigel wanted to hold Aiden close to his heart. He wanted to be able to reach for his cock and stroke it to give his boy the full euphoria he deserved. Nigel pulled Aiden right leg up--held it in place with his hand--Aiden guided Nigel's dick in him.

Sinful cries spilled from his mouth. He groaned Nigel's name as the man buried his face in Aiden's chocolate curls. He smelled of jasmine--the same shampoo that he had used the first time they made love. Nigel's breath was desperate, and his kisses were impatient. He waited so long to hold Aiden. He moved slowly--complying with the pace Aiden was jerking his hips back. Skin slapped against skin--Nigel moaned as Aiden clenched muscles to deliver the utmost satisfaction. Nigel bit into Aiden's neck, his taste salty because of the sweat forming between the two.

"D-Darling...!"  
"You wanna cum, baby...?" Aiden moaned.

"You-you feel so fucking good, da-darling!" Nigel moved in frenzy. His hips bucked up into Aiden--the boy's cries a lot louder, because Nigel was hitting the spot that made him lose his mind.

Aiden whimpered as Nigel slowled. He wanted to stay in that moment a bit longer--Aiden hot and gasping for breath as Nigel fucked him slowly. Nigel stroked Aiden's cock and sucked on his skin. He wanted to remind everyone that would see him that Aiden was taken. Aiden was his.

"I-I ca-can't...!" Aiden whined.

"Cum for me, darling."

Aiden did so. His cum covered Nigel's hand as Nigel rode out the young novelist's orgasm. Nigel pumped into Aiden quicker to reach his climax. It did not take all that long as he painted the inside of Aiden with his cum. The young novelist groaned as Nigel pulled out of Aiden slowly. A lewd moan coming from Aiden as Nigel tucked himself back into his pants. Nigel wiped his hand on the sheets and pulled Aiden closer. His ass pressed against his dick. Aiden moved them slightly only to grab the man's attention.

"That was perfect." Aiden smiled. "You're perfect, darling."

Aiden looked back at Nigel; the man kissed him. This was their life now. This relationship of infatuation was what they lived day by day. Aiden knew that this infatuation with the other would only bring suffering in the end. Nigel knew deep down inside that the relationship would be the end of him. But neither cared, and both replaced their thoughts of the future for the present.

 

 


End file.
